Watermelon kakigori (Japanese watermelon shaved ice)

The taste of the Japanese summer festival: finely shaved ice drenched in vivid crimson watermelon syrup, a street food tradition that brings the luxury of the Hokkaido Densuke to the paper cup

Origin: Japan (Hokkaido and Tokyo)

From the journey of Watermelon.

Kakigori (かき氷, literally 'shaved ice') is one of Japan's most beloved summer foods, with records of its consumption dating to the Heian period (794 to 1185 CE), when ice harvested from mountain ponds in winter was packed in ice houses and brought to the imperial court as a luxury. Sei Shonagon's Makura no Soshi (The Pillow Book, c. 1000 CE) lists shaved ice with sweet syrup among the refined pleasures of aristocratic summer life. Watermelon kakigori brings the concentrated flavour of Japan's finest watermelons to the democratic form of a street-food paper cup. The Densuke watermelon of Hokkaido, with its distinctive almost entirely black rind and exceptionally dense, sweet flesh, is produced in quantities of fewer than ten thousand fruits per year and sells at auction for sums that would purchase a case of grand cru wine; the syrup made from its pressed juice, poured over a cone of fine snow-like shaved ice, is the most refined expression of watermelon kakigori. The home version, using any good ripe watermelon, produces an entirely satisfying result and is one of the simplest and most refreshing things one can make in a summer kitchen.

Ingredients

syrup base

  • 800 g cold watermelon flesh, rind and seeds removed, cut into rough chunks

syrup

  • 100 g caster sugar
  • 1 tbsp fresh lemon juice

ice

  • 2 litres filtered water, frozen into one or two large ice blocks overnight in a suitable container

optional topping

  • 1 tbsp condensed milk per serving (optional, a contemporary addition popular in modern Japanese kakigori shops)

Method

  1. Blend the watermelon chunks until completely smooth. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve or muslin into a bowl, pressing firmly, to produce a clear, vivid red juice. Discard the solids.
  2. Combine the strained watermelon juice with the caster sugar in a small saucepan. Heat over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the sugar dissolves completely (2 to 3 minutes). Do not boil. Add the lemon juice. Remove from the heat.
  3. Allow the syrup to cool completely, then refrigerate until very cold (at least 2 hours). The syrup keeps refrigerated for up to 5 days.
  4. Prepare the ice. The finest texture comes from shaving a solid block of frozen water on a kakigori machine or electric shaved-ice machine. If using a blender, blend ice cubes in very short 2-second pulses until they form fine snow, working in small batches.
  5. Pack the shaved ice loosely into a high mound in each bowl or paper cup. Pour the cold watermelon syrup over the ice generously, letting it drench the top and run down the sides. If using, drizzle a tablespoon of condensed milk over the top. Serve immediately.

Notes

A traditional Japanese kakigori machine (available from Japanese kitchen stores and online at approximately £30 to £80) produces the authentic snow-like ice texture that makes this dessert exceptional. An electric shaved-ice machine also produces a good result. If neither is available, blend ice cubes in a powerful blender in 2-second pulses until they reach a fine, powdery texture. Kakigori can be made with many other fruits: strawberry, lychee, musk melon, and matcha are among the most popular syrups in Japan. The condensed milk topping, while not traditional in older versions, has become ubiquitous in contemporary Japanese kakigori shops and adds a creamy richness that contrasts pleasingly with the icy fruit.

The Gastrographer

The Gastrographer

Mapping Culinary History

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Journey Point Map Key

Ingredient originTrade or transit route
Became a culinary stapleColonial / trade control
c. 1900 CE
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5000 BCE900 CE1450 CE1900 CE
Watermelon

Watermelon

Citrullus lanatus

FruitsCucurbitaceae (Gourd family)

🌍Origin

Kordofan region, northeastern Africa (Sudan) — c. 5000 BCE

🌱Domestication

The watermelon (Citrullus lanatus) is a trailing annual vine of the gourd family, the Cucurbitaceae, and although its sweet red flesh has made it the very emblem of summer, it is a wholly distinct plant from the musk melon (Cucumis melo), the cantaloupe and honeydew with which it is so often confused. Its homeland is Africa, and the long search for the precise spot has lately narrowed to the arid savannah of the north-east of the continent. The genetic study published by Susanne Renner and colleagues in 2021, examining the genome of a Sudanese seed-and-flesh melon called the Kordofan melon, identified that plant as the closest living relative and probable wild progenitor of the cultivated watermelon, pointing to the Kordofan region of modern Sudan as the primary centre of origin, and corroborating the archaeological seeds long recovered across the region. The wild fruit was nothing like the one we eat. It was small, pale, hard-fleshed, and commonly bitter with cucurbitacins, and it was valued not for sweetness at all but for water: in a landscape baked by drought, the watermelon is a living canteen, its flesh storing drinkable moisture through the dry season long after the rivers and wells have failed, so that foragers, herders, and wild animals alike have prized it as a reliable source of water in the desert for thousands of years. The first deliberate selection, in this seed-and-water tradition, was towards larger, sweeter, less bitter flesh and a softer texture, the slow human work that turned a bitter survival-gourd into a dessert fruit. A second and entirely separate agricultural lineage grew up in West and Central Africa, where a closely related plant (Citrullus mucosospermus, the egusi melon) is cultivated not for its thin, often bitter flesh but for its large, flat, oil-rich seeds. Dried, roasted, and ground into a thick protein-dense paste, these seeds are the heart of egusi soup, one of the most widely eaten dishes of the continent. These two traditions, the sweet flesh of the north-east and the nourishing seed of the west, are the two parallel gifts of the Citrullus genus to African cooking, and both, carried by trade and by the forced migration of the African diaspora, have since travelled around the world.

Global Voyage

From its homeland in north-eastern Africa the watermelon made one of the longest and most thoroughly documented journeys of any fruit, and the first stage of it was northward down the Nile. In ancient Egypt the sweet-fleshed melon was cultivated as a deliberate crop by the second millennium BCE, its seeds recovered from tombs, including the tomb of Tutankhamun, and the elongated green fruit depicted in tomb paintings amongst the offerings laid up for the journey into the afterlife, where its cargo of water would refresh the dead. From Egypt it passed into the ancient Near East along Canaanite and Phoenician trade routes, and its hold on the appetite is caught in one of the most human passages of the Old Testament, in which the Israelites wandering in the Sinai wilderness lament the watermelons, cucumbers, leeks, onions, and garlic they had eaten in Egypt and now sorely miss. The physicians of Greece and Rome, Dioscorides, Pliny, and Columella among them, described the fruit with care, recommending it as a cooling, diuretic food for the heat of summer, and Roman cultivation carried it across North Africa, the Iberian Peninsula, and the Mediterranean islands. The decisive dispersal, however, was the work of the medieval Islamic world. Arab traders and agronomists of the Islamic Golden Age, the great distributors of crops and irrigation, spread the watermelon across the Maghreb, into Moorish al-Andalus, and eastward through Persia and Central Asia along the Silk Road, until it reached China, where it was so plainly a newcomer from the west that the Chinese named it xigua, the 'western melon', a name that records its foreign provenance to this day. Ottoman Turkey raised it into one of the world's great watermelon cultures, and China, where it had arrived last of all, would in time become by far its largest producer. The final leg was the Atlantic crossing. European colonists carried watermelon seeds to the Americas in the sixteenth century, by way of the Canary Islands and the Caribbean, but its spread through the New World was bound up inseparably with the transatlantic slave trade: enslaved West Africans, drawn from cultures in which the melon and its seed-bearing cousin were long familiar foods, carried and planted it in the Caribbean, in Brazil, and in the American South, where it became a fixture of the provision grounds and, in time, an institution of the southern summer. From there its modern career has run to extremes, nowhere more so than in Japan, which has turned the watermelon into an object of luxury and spectacle, perfecting jet-black-rinded cultivars sold at auction for extraordinary sums.

🍽Modern Culinary Role

The watermelon is the world's largest-volume fruit of summer by weight, a crop of well over a hundred million tonnes a year, and its production is dominated by a single country: China grows by some measures around two-thirds of the global supply, with Turkey, India, Iran, Brazil, Algeria, and the United States among the other leading producers. It is, at base, refreshment made edible, more than nine-tenths water by weight, low in calories, rich in the antioxidant lycopene that gives the red flesh its colour and in the amino acid citrulline that takes its very name from the genus Citrullus; the rind and seed, long discarded in the West, are eaten and valued elsewhere. Culturally it remains, almost everywhere it grows, the taste of the hot season and a thing eaten in company out of doors. In Turkey and across the eastern Mediterranean the pairing of chilled watermelon with a soft white brine cheese, the Turkish beyaz peynir or the Greek and Levantine feta, is so elemental that it needs no recipe at all, the sweet flesh and the salty curd set against one another as they have been since the Egyptians first ate melon with cheese four thousand years ago; a wedge with a pinch of salt, a crumble of feta, or a few torn mint leaves is the ubiquitous refreshment of the afternoon. In West Africa the egusi seed remains the basis of one of the most widely eaten soups of the continent, a reminder that the genus feeds as well as cools. In the American South the outdoor ritual of cold salted watermelon and the thrifty, clove-spiced watermelon rind pickle persist as memories woven into the summer, even as the fruit there carries a painful freight of racial caricature alongside its pleasures. And in Japan the watermelon has become an object of luxury and play at once, the near-black Densuke of Hokkaido fetching well over a million yen for the first fruit of the season at auction, the cuboid melons grown to fit a refrigerator shelf, and the suikawari game splitting a melon blindfold on the summer beach.

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